


scattered stars

by Crawlingthroughashes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, Stargazing, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:34:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7809199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crawlingthroughashes/pseuds/Crawlingthroughashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance wore his heart on his threadbare sleeve, visible for the perusal of wandering eyes.</p><p>Keith, on the other hand, kept his heart carefully concealed beneath skin that was stretched too tight and bones that felt too heavy for his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	scattered stars

All his life, Keith had the term 'precocious' affixed to his chest. People would comment on his natural talent, how he was so far ahead for his age; a _prodigy_. The praise never seemed to fit him right. It was either too big, like clothing he hoped he'd eventually grow into, or too small, to the point of constriction. He'd been told time and time again that he was ahead of the others in his classes. It was strange, then, how he'd always felt so far behind.

As a kid, it was easy to make friends. There seemed to be some unspoken rule that if you shared your candy or your toys, you were automatically friends. Things were simple. Things were good. 

By the time he reached middle school, he felt the start of a rift. It was a minuscule sort of distance, but it may as well have been a yawning void. Unlike his friends, he had no crushes to speak of, and when the other guys in his class snuck rather risqué magazines to school, he could only express thinly-veiled indifference. He had nothing to offer to their conversations. He had friends but he didn't really _have friends_. He was always on the edge of their circle, like one of Saturn's outermost rings.  
Keith's teachers praised him for his work ethic, for how quiet and respectful he was in class. He didn't quite see the benefits of being 'quiet and respectful' because it never seemed to get him anywhere, and only seemed to irk his classmates. Things weren't exactly good, but they weren't bad, either. 

Then came high school. This was the time when people had, for the most part, already figured out who they were. They were more certain of themselves, more defined, a series of cogs that all fit together seamlessly. It became increasingly apparent that Keith didn't fit in. He was a spare part, wholly unnecessary, constantly set aside should he be of use some time in the future. He drew away from everyone. Maybe the worst part of it all was that he couldn't bring it in himself to care. 

He studied hard, investing all his free time in what he decided was going to be a better future. So much of school seemed nothing but a waste of time, but he did what he was told and learned what he was expected to. He'd stay up late finishing assignments, and would stay up later still to watch the stars. 

Shortly before graduating, he received a letter of acceptance from the Galaxy Garrison. It didn't come as much of a surprise. Once passed the Garrison doors, Keith began training. He trained hard, soon eliciting praise and recognition for his natural instincts and skill. His lifelong dreams and ambitions rested in the palm of his hand like a tangible thing. But it wasn't enough. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected, what he'd even wanted, but it wasn't this. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to what he'd desired, but he still felt so detached from the praise and the success. 

For the most part, the other trainees were put-off by his monosyllabic and closed off nature, and he remained estranged, even from his own assigned flight group. There were a few tolerable people, but not ones Keith made an effort to interact with. He enjoyed Shiro's company, which was a strange thing. It was probably the lack of judgement in the older man's gaze. But then the Kerberos mission happened, and what could have been a friendship tapered off into nothing.

It wasn't long before the rush of adrenaline from piloting seemed to wear off. The missions became too routine. He grew tired of adhering to stupid rules that were established for stupid reasons. 

Keith felt like the lone inhabitant of a deserted planet, a world awaiting verdict and decimation from the nearest sun. 

It wasn't long before his rashness, his indifference to the rules, and overall carelessness, landed him an expulsion. 

It should've been the equivalent of a death-sentence for someone with no other goals, no other plans for the future. Instead, it was a relief that eased the weight of a burden he hadn't realized he'd been carrying. 

He was alone. Entirely and completely cut-off from everyone around him. But for the first time in his life, he didn't feel inclined to heave expectations upon his shoulders. There were no guidelines, no rules or requirements to follow. He could waste all his supposed potential, and there would be no one to admonish him for it. This subtle shift marked the start of a period of change. 

New words began to fill his lexicon, words like _Altea_ , and _Galra_ , and _Voltron._ With these terms came a new future. And with this future came Lance. 

He remembered him vaguely from days at the Garrison. Lance had always been a bit of an anomaly, even back then. He had a voice that carried several decibels too loud, had a lazy sort of self-certainty about him, and his lips always seemed to be curved in some sort of cocky smile, rather than naturally resting flat or in a frown. Keith had met plenty of people like Lance, and he had no interest in taking their relationship beyond that of strangers. 

(Except strangers don't look at each other like _that_. Not the way you look at him.) 

Keith's life shifted from being a pilot to being a paladin, and from spending time in quiet solitude to enduring constant noise. 

"You're so goddamn annoying," Keith huffed one morning after breakfast. No matter which seat he chose at the table, Lance somehow always ended up seated beside him.

"Yeah? Well you're even more annoying than I am!" 

Lance was the epitome of immaturity, but his retorts never contained any real vitriol. There was something almost satisfying about their arguments, in that they never lasted long, but still managed to stave off any of the current irritation thrumming under Keith's skin. It was playful banter, and nothing more. 

When he wasn't arguing with Lance, Keith found himself interacting with the other paladins. Said interaction was minimal, but it was something. There were occasions where he felt like he actually fit in. Or was starting to, anyway. 

There was one thing that hadn't changed. On sleepless nights, Keith still opted to watch the stars rather than rest his eyes. He'd observe the star charts, especially the interactive one aboard the ship. However, he rarely used it to look at Earth. 

One night, he crept into the room, only to find it was already occupied. The star chart was already activated, its vibrant blue glow coruscating off the walls. Lance didn't hear him come in until he was a hairbreadth away. 

"Ahh! Shit! Don't you ever knock?"

"Why? It's not your room," he pointed out. 

Lance grumbled something under his breath that Keith didn't bother to catch. 

"Why are you here, anyway?" Lance questioned finally. 

Keith didn't have a proper answer for that. 

The stared in silence for a few lengthy minutes. For once the silence seemed thick and heavy, the sort of quiet that Keith didn't know how to break through. 

There was a rumbling sound as Lance cleared his throat. His voice was clogged with emotion. "I just... wanna go home, you know?"

 _'No,'_ Keith thought. _'I don't.'_ He didn't say that. He didn't say anything at all. 

Keith slowly started to accept that there may have been more to Lance than what he'd suspected, that maybe his instincts were wrong. Or maybe the case was that, when it came to Lance, he'd been ignoring his instincts from the start. 

Lance was like the moon, only revealing one phase at a time, one facet of his personality. He wanted to ignore him, wanted to build distance, but he was caught in his orbit like a satellite.

Lance was also like the sun. Keith knew he should look away, that something so bright could only inevitably burn. He should look away to prevent damage to himself. But the stubborn part of him wanted to stare. 

It never used to bother him when Lance flirted with Allura. He's not sure when things started changing, but now, when Lance's appreciative gaze lingered a little too long, or he paid her unnecessary compliments, something ugly reared up inside of Keith. A sickening twist of jealousy that he worked hard to hide and bury. 

It wasn't fair. To want something, to _really_ want something, and know it can never be yours.

He'd come to learn that you can wish on stars all you want, but that doesn't mean they have to answer back. They don't owe you anything.

Sometimes he thought about the times when Lance would lean in close, or tease him, or throw a careless arm over his shoulder. Sometimes he thought he saw something in Lance's eyes, but it was merely wishful thinking, and false hope was a dangerous thing to tamper with.

_You're not some silly schoolboy with a crush. Get over it._ He tried. He really did. He channeled all his energy into intense workouts and training and learning about the Galra Empire and Altea, and all the planets beyond the scope of the milky way galaxy. 

"You're a cool guy, Keith," Lance murmured one night. It wasn't unusual for them to watch the stars together. His voice was slow and syrupy, just on the brink of sleep. "Mullet and all." 

Keith smiled as if the remark hadn't affected him, as if it wasn't a knife buried in his side. 

Lance's head lolled against his shoulder. The weight was comforting. He wanted to wrap his arms around the warm body beside him, to map out its topography and catalogue all its hard plains. 

But he couldn't do that. Wouldn't allow himself to. 

Instead, he pressed a message to Lance's lips. Soft and paper light. A message carrying all the words he'd never be able to work past his throat. All the words Lance probably didn't want to hear.

_I love you._

Lance didn't so much as stir from the contact between them. Keith carefully propped Lance's head against the window. He left the room promptly after that, his veins now lead filled, his heart aching within the confines of his chest. The action was supposed to give him some sort of closure, a goodbye and an acknowledgement of feelings that could never be reciprocated. Instead, he felt something inside him splinter and scatter, like the dust of a long forgotten star.

**Author's Note:**

> im not even sure what this is tbh


End file.
